They say the holidays, joyous as they can be, are a leading cause of fights between loved ones. The Atlantic reports that ¾ of us have at least one family member we’d like to drown in a bowl of eggnog. Family members bicker over everything from money and travel stress, too much togetherness, in-law issues, gifts, and cranky kids.
I’m thinking about getting this ball rolling by showing up for my mom’s Christmas Eve shindig in white pants.
On second thought, I’ve never been a fan of eggnog.
…No matter how well traveled, sophisticated, self-actualized, accomplished, sit-on-a-mountaintop spiritually enlightened you’ve become, a passive aggressive “What a bitch” muttered under your breath after poor customer service makes everything better.
After last week’s windstorm, a reminder that in spite of life’s cruelest curve balls, there may be a few we dodged along the way.
Those who have beheld our 1960s kitchen should not be surprised to learn we are in the process of remodeling. For the past week, my already muddled brain has been grappling with the task of functioning with no kitchen sink, stove, table, or counter tops.
Despite a steady diet of restaurant food, a family of five still manages to produce dirty dishes, and this week’s project was figuring out what to do with them.
Logical solution #1: the bathroom sink. Within 48 hours, there was an angry husband with plumber’s crack dissembling pipes before abandoning them in a heap, an “out of order” sign, laced with f-bombs, scrawled on the mirror.
Logical solution #2: the upstairs bathtub. After discovering my hair trapper was no obstacle for food particles, I finally perfected a system of rinsing the dinnerware into a bucket, lugging it deep into the woods so as not to attract the wildlife near our house, then trudging back to the house Laura Ingalls-style, empty bucket in hand.
My mom was over yesterday and caught a glimpse of a bucket of ketchup-smeared dishes (evidence that microwaved McDonald’s fries are indeed edible) soaking in the bathtub. Proudly, I explained the steps of my process.
She listened, blinked, and inquired, “Why aren’t you using paper plates?”
They say each generation will grow weaker and wiser. I’ve never been one to conform.